Rehash - Emi Chan in Rand Land
by Ryo Oh Ki7
Summary: Emi is a normal school girl with a family that doesn't care about her. Who is the strange woman in her back yard that introduces herself as an Aiel?
1. Prelude - or how Emi came to Randland

The bell rang. Lunchtime was over and fifth period was about to begin.

She made her way to her English classroom, navigating her way amongst the river of students walking down the corridor. She was the second one into the classroom, taking a seat in the middle. Other students began to filter into the room, talking and laughing. Max sat down next to her and started to unpack his things. Max had been her best friend since they had both come to the school in year seven; her from interstate and him from America.

"Hey Em, did you see what Josh was doing to that year seven kid out near the oval?"

Josh was the son of the school principal. He and his friend John were spoiled brats, who thought that they owned the school. They picked on year seven kids, easy targets, and were generally disliked by the rest of the students in their year level. They had never really bothered Emi that much though, they mostly steered clear of each other, exactly how Emi liked it.

"No." Emi replied, "I spent most of lunch near the Hockey field talking to Sarah."

Before he could explain the latest gossip Miss Hodge, the English teacher came into the room.

"Quiet everyone." Miss Hodge said, her voice difficult to hear over the noise of a classroom full of rowdy teenagers. Somehow they did hear though and they soon stopped their chatter.

"You all have this period to work on your fantasy essay, I don't want to hear any talking, just the melodic scratching of pen on paper."

Emi opened her folder and took a blue biro from her pencil case, a bulky wooden thing she had made in woodwork.

She tried to think of what to write on the black piece of lined A4 paper in front of her. She yawned and closed her eyes briefly.

The bell rang.

'The bell?' Emi thought, 'thats not right.'

"Okay class, make sure to do some more work on your essays at home before Wednesday." Miss Hodge instructed.

'I slept through the entire class?'

Confused Emi followed the actions of her classmates and made to close and pack away her folder. She stopped, stunned. The page was covered in writing.

She looked down at the paper and read the words written on it.

_And it shall come to pass that what men made shall be shattered,_

_and the Shadow shall lie across the Pattern of the Age,_

_and the Dark One shall once more lay his hand upon the world of man._

_Women shall weep and men quail as the Nations of the earth are rent like rotting cloth._

_Neither shall anything stand or abide._

_The Dragon shall be reborn to oppose the Shadow._

_But the light cannot succeed unless one removed from the pattern ties._

When the Dragon reborn confronts the Shadow at the last battle,

_and his blood stains the rocks of Shayol Ghul,_

_Light's survival cannot subsist without a Sacrifice._

"Emi, are you coming?" Max asked, only his head visible through the classroom doorway, "We have History."

Emi blinked a couple of times.

"Yeah Max, I'm coming." she said as she packed up her folder, trying to put the words on the paper out of her mind.

History class effectively removed the mystery of the English assignment from her mind, keeping her busy trying to remember dates and events. Max filled her in on the latest about Josh and John.

The bell rang. History class was over and so was school for another day. All of the students rose, slamming their seats backwards into the tables or walls behind them in a mad rush to escape the prison of school.

Emi didn't depart with the same fanaticism displayed by most of her classmates, she was one of the few who actually preferred their time at school.

She put her pencil case back into her bag, then picked up her folder. From out of the folder slipped a piece of paper, gliding down onto the table in front of her. Her English assignment. She put her folder into her bag, eyes never leaving the piece of paper on the table lest it disappeared as mysteriously as it's words appeared. She tentatively reached out, touching the words on the paper, hoping that her touch could exorcise the words that her sight evidenced. Her fingers disabused her of that hope, the inky depressions confirmed.

'The Dark One will once more lay his hand upon the world of man?' she thought, 'Is this some sort of Revelations prophecy?'

She folded up the paper and put it into her pocket, shouldered her bag and began walking to her pick up point. Her step father wasn't there, but she liked to be there waiting 'just in case'. It was half an hour before his familiar white BMW pulled up and she got in.

She stared ahead as her Stepfather drove the familiar path towards home. He didn't speak to her and she didn't speak to him. The silence would be deafening, if it weren't for the fact that it was a tradition replayed every day after the first. Almost since the first moment, he had made it clear that he was there for her Mother and not for her. Since the moment her Mother met him, she had been forgotten, ignored. Picking her up from school was the only thing her step father did for her and that was only because it was on his way home after work. He wouldn't drive her to school though, he had to go a different way in the morning. At home, she got out of the car and carrying her bag she made her way inside. She passed her Mother on the way, she was dressed in an evening gown and putting on earrings as she hurried out to get into the car. Just like most days, Emi would be left to fend for herself as her Mother and Stepfather went out for dinner.

Emi walked through the house, dropping her bag into her room before making her way out into the backyard. She jumped up onto a bench next to the side fence and climbed over into the neighbour's yard. This too was a tradition for her. Her neighbours were ageing hippies; Sunshine Merryweather (Merryweather being her real surname, Sunshine having been changed by deed poll) and her "Life Partner" Bob (No surname). Climbing over the fence was required as her parents did not like her visiting those "No good, useless, drug fucked hippies" and the couple across the street dobbed her in last time she used their front door. Sunshine often shared their dinner with Emi and it was a testament to her Mother's neglect that she never questioned what Emi ate for dinner when nothing was ever missing from the pantry. While she missed meat, Sunshine's vegan cooking was nonetheless very nice and filling.

As Emi landed in the neighbour's yard she was immediately spotted by Sunshine who was standing in the kitchen, looking out the window and waving. Even though she was at least into her fifties she was the epitome of a sixties hippy. Her blonde (now slightly graying) hair was held back by a tie dyed headband, white daisy poking out over her left ear. She was wearing a homemade knitted shawl with a bright coloured wavy lined pattern. Emi waved back as she made her way to their backdoor, removing her shoes and letting herself in.

"So nice to see you Emi!" greeted Sunshine, "How was school today?"

"Hi Sunshine," she greeted and yelled out "Hi Bob!"

"School was… interesting."

Bob entered the kitchen and engulfed her in a hug. His beard scratched her neck and he smelt of marijuana, but held in his arms she actually felt 'safe'.

"How interesting?" he asked.

"I blacked out in English class."

"You get used to it." Bob replied, ever the stoner.

"When I woke up I found that I had written something while I'd been out."

"You get used to *that* too."

"What did you write, dear?" asked Sunshine, the care and worry written all over her face as she gave Bob a gentle and loving 'whap' on the back of his head.

Emi pulled the piece of paper from her pocket and passed it to Sunshine. Sunshine read it, Bob peeking over her shoulder, brow furrowed in worry and confusion. She passed the paper to Bob so that he could read it properly.

"It reminds me of those Nostradamus prophecies." Sunshine said, "He was a Russian mystic from hundreds of years ago. So many things that he wrote down came true."

"I don't know why, but every time I read the words there I get a funny feeling."

"Words can hold power, Emi." Sunshine said to her, "Put it out of your mind, and let in feelings of love."

"All you need is love." added Bob.

Sunshine convinced her to meditate on "love", and as hard as she tried, she could not remove the sense of dread that was enveloping her. When Sunshine asked if she felt better afterwards, Emi put on a brave face and a smile that reeked of fakeness and told her that she did.

They had a really nice Potato and cauliflower curry for dinner and Emi went back home over the fence before her parents were due home at eight.

Emi arrived at school early the next day. She was often early, taking the opportunity to be away from home. She walked across the empty school ground and up the side stairs towards her locker. As she reached the top of the stairs she came across John. John's father was a banker or investment broker or something equally as boring (and lucrative) and because of this John believed that he had a right to act however he liked around the school. It helped John, that his best friend and "right hand man", Josh was the son of the principal.

John was holding a young girl by her arm, Emi vaguely recognised her as being in year seven or eight. His grip was obviously tight, pain was evident on her face.

"You fucking slut." he growled at her.

Neither had seen her. She knew that she could just turn around and walk away, the neutrality in their relationship could continue.

The young girl said only one word, "Please", and Emi could her the pleading and fear in her voice. The tone of her voice struck something deep down inside Emi, something buried and hidden. Emi knew that she could not just leave, she could not abandon the girl to John.

"Let go of her." she said, in a surprisingly loud and clear voice. She didn't feel confident, she felt like she was shaking on the inside, outside too.

John did let go of her and she took the opportunity to run away, down the corridor.

John looked at the girl's retreating figure before he took a few steps towards Emi.

Emi saw him tense up, she almost knew what he was going to do before he did. His face was so flushed with anger, it was surprising that he didn't just explode. He brought his arm back, hand closed into a fist. In it came, all anger; frustration and hate, a wild but strong haymaker. As his fist got closer, Emi stepped to one side and pushed out at the incoming arm. She connected with John's arm and he overbalanced and almost fell onto his face, only last minute hands flung out desperately in front of him prevented it. He pushed himself back up and now, the face that was merely flushed had transformed into some sort of visage of anger. It was a caricature of anger, there was at once something more than anger and something otherworldly about his hate.

John tensed again and rushed towards her. Again Emi stepped to one side, John went past her towards the stairs. John sailed down the first few steps, before tripping himself up and began the slow and extremely painful descent to the bottom.

Emi looked on in shock. Blood, red blood, stained some of the concrete steps, a crumpled pile of clothes at the bottom looked nothing like a person. The body at the bottom of the steps wasn't moving, Emi froze up. She heard the rapid staccato of running coming from the corridor behind her.

"Oh my god!" someone said, and ran past her down the steps. Someone else grabbed her arm and pulled her away. It wasn't until she was almost facing the opposite direction that her locked on gaze was forced away from the stairs. She looked up at the face of Mr Jacobson, the school Principal.

"Go to my office, right now!" he thundered and Emi started walking down the corridor. A few meters away she looked back over her shoulder, but she could no longer see the bottom of the stairs; or the blood, so she kept on walking.

She walked into the school office and Glinda, the secretary looked at her questioningly, "Mr Jacobson told me to wait in his office."

Glinda nodded and went back to whatever she was doing.

Emi walked into the Principals office and sat herself down on the chair in front of his desk. Behind the desk was a poster with a picture of a man standing on a cliff. Underneath it said "Determination" and under that; "Climb as high as you can dream". The desk itself was very messy, similar to the rest of the office. Bookshelves were full of binders and large books.

She heard the school bell ring, signalling the beginning of classes for the day and she was still in the office when it rang again for the start of first period. Eventually Mr Jacobson returned to his office. He sat down at his desk and fixed Emi with a steady gaze.

"Do you realise how much trouble, you're in Amy?" He asked.

"My name's Emi Sir." she said, stressing the pronunciation.

His brows furrowed, "I think you're missing the point… Emi."

"Why would I be in trouble Sir?"

"John is in hospital with cracked ribs and broken bones. He almost died."

Emi could feel herself begin to shake, her fingers felt numb. She tried to rally her thoughts.

"But." she began, "He attacked me."

"That's not what he said." The principal replied.

Emi just knew that Mr Jacobson wouldn't take her word.

"You've got detention in room 335 for the rest of the day." He said, "Until we can figure out if you should be expelled."

Emi sat in shock. Expelled? For defending herself?

"What are you waiting for!?" Mr Jacobson almost shouted, "Get out of my sight." 

Emi stared at the clock. Willing it to go faster, to skip a few minutes, but no matter how hard she tried it wouldn't co-operate.

She wished that the torture would end, but it wouldn't. Detention, it seemed, would remain the punishment that it was supposed to be. It was the fourth day of detention. Different teachers, different rooms. She was not to be expelled it seemed, but would have to stay in detention until she wrote a letter of apology to John. It was the fourth day, because she refused to apologise.

She frowned as she recalled the reason for her torture. Mister Henderson, her year level co-ordinator, was sitting at the desk at the front of the room.

He was correcting work. At the end of each assignment, or test, he would look up at her. Whether it was to make sure that she was still there, or it was to allow himself to silently curse her for a punishment that was just as much for him as it was for her, she wasn't sure. She was sure that he would rather be in the staff room, enjoying a cold beer with his co-workers, or at home with his family, or really; anywhere but still at the school.  
"Don't go anywhere." he said, as he left the room.

He was in year ten and was picking on a young girl in year seven. He was calling her names and pushing her around. It wasn't her fault that he had to be taken to hospital. He threw the first punch. He charged towards her, unmindful of the stairs behind her. He fell down the stairs on his own. But because the boy's friends all claimed that she pushed him (that none of them were there was irrelevant). The letter from Mister Jacobson convinced her mother and stepfather of her guilt and nothing she said could change their minds.

She stared at the paper in front of her and the pen next to it. She was told that she had to write an apology to the boy. She would not apologise. There was nothing to apologise for. But she knew that if she didn't then she would have detention the next day, and the next, until she did.

"Still nothing?" asked Mister Henderson as he returned. Emi tried to glare at him as best she could, and took satisfaction in his surprise.

"You know, I don't get paid any extra for this." he stated, knowing that she didn't care, "Just write something and save both of us the hassle."

"Anything?" She asked.

"So long as it's an apology." He replied.

She thought for a moment, before deciding. She picked up the pen and began writing. Once finished she asked the teacher for an envelope, which he graciously provided. She sealed the envelope, addressing it to the young hooligan.

"Well, finally we can both go home." Mr Henderson said, "Now, we expect not to have any more trouble from you Emi."

On her way home Emi pondered the outcome of her situation, kicking herself for not thinking of the solution sooner. Oh, she apologised all right.

She apologies on his behalf for picking on that girl, for his stupidity in falling down the stairs. She apologised for his parents, who obviously didn't raise him properly. She apologised for his likely future of a lifetime in prison if he kept going like he was. Finally, she apologised to him for getting his arse handed to him by a "girl".

Yes, if it all worked, then it was the best possible outcome that she could hope for.

The streets were mostly empty as she walked out of the school. It was ten kilometres home, and her stepfather had refused to come and get her as further punishment.

About to slide open the back door, she was surprised to see a strangely dressed woman in the backyard. She had red hair, similar to Emi's and was wearing a light brown jacket and pants with a scarf of a similar colour wrapped around her head. The ensemble looked home made. She carried what looked to be a spear.

She shifted into a stance at Emi's movement but relaxed it as soon as she looked at Emi. A look of recognition seemed to dawn upon her.

Emi opened the door.

"Are you a friend of Sunshine's?" she asked the strange woman.

"I am Tanil, Far Dareis Mai of the Jaern Rift sept of the Codarra Aiel." the woman introduced herself, "Please, I have been sent to get you for your assistance is needed."

'Hippy commune?' Emi wondered.

"Get me?" Emi asked, "Is Sunshine okay?".

"Sun shine?" Tanil replied, shaking her head. "I do not understand. My journey has been long, but the Wise Ones instructed me of it's importance. If I do not return with you, then all of the Aiel will die."

"What Wise Ones, what Aiel?" Emi asked, ready to run to the phone to dial triple '0', "What are you talking about?"

The woman, Tanil, somehow sensed her fear and spoke a little less forcefully, "Please. The last thing I would do is think harm upon you."

Fed up, Emi threatened the woman, "I warn you! Get lost or I'll call the police!"

The woman seemed to get frustrated and upset, saying to herself, "I knew this would happen! Why did I have to be the one to find the Amulet? Why couldn't it have been Braen or Allander?"

Resigned, Tanil pleaded with Emi, "Please. We only have a short while before the door closes."

"What door?" Emi asked, confused.

"That door" the strange woman replied, pointing to the back wall of the house.

Emi stepped out of the back door and looked at the back wall of the house. She almost collapsed in shock when she saw not the bricks of the back wall but a rectangular picture of a forest. The picture seemed so real, there was no way that it could have been a photo or a projection because the branches of the trees were swaying and she could not see the bricks of the wall.

"Please." Tanil repeated, "We don't have much time."

Emi tried to weigh everything in her mind. A strange woman needed her help. The woman wants her to go through a strange door. A door, presumably to another world. The woman needed her help. She had no friends, her family didn't care about her. She was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland. 'There better be enough time to pack.' Emi thought, as she hurried inside.

"One sec!" she shouted behind her as she run up towards her room.

She quickly grabbed her schoolbag and shoved some clothes into it. Running downstairs she stopped by the pantry to fill the rest of it up with food.

Emi returned outside a minute later, her schoolbag over her shoulder.

Together, they walked through the door.

Everything blurred, then went black. Emi then found herself in the middle of a forest. She looked behind her and was surprised to see a large stone doorframe. It looked entirely out of place in the middle of what appeared to be a forest. Inside the frame was nothing, no home, no door. Tanil retrieved a small wooden amulet from a recess on the right hand side of the frame.

"I am afraid we must hurry, it is a long way from here to the Three-Fold Land." Tanil said, pointing to her left, "This way."

Emi hefted her pack and they began a slow jog through the forest, Emi admiring the quiet and peacefulness of her surroundings. She doubted that she would see a possum or kangaroo and wondered what sort of animals there were around her. She soon grew accustomed to jogging, getting into a rhythm.

Eventually they came to a small river and Tanil stopped dead in her tracks. The river wasn't too wide, or running very rapidly.

"I reckon I could swim that, but I'd get my backpack wet." Emi said as she walked to the river bank, trying to gauge it's depth.

"You could what?" Tanil asked.

"You know, swim." Emi replied, making swimming motions with her arms.

"You can do that?" Tanil asked incredulously.

"Of course I can." replied Emi, "What? You can't?"

"No." answered a shocked Tanil, "Up until I came into the wetlands, I had never seen so much water. There is nothing like this in the Three-Fold Land."

Emi was surprised, almost everyone it home knew how to swim. 'This Three-Fold Land must be a desert.' she thought.

"I suppose that it would be too much to ask for a bridge or something?" Emi asked herself as she sat down, going through her pack for the packet of Tim Tams she had pinched from the pantry.

"A bridge?" Tanil said, "I did use a bridge to cross over the river, but it was close to a town. I do not think that I would be able to protect you if we went near it."

"Protect me?" Emi asked, munching on a Tim Tam as she threw another to her new friend.

Tanil took a bite of the biscuit and apparently liked the taste, "I am Aiel and you look like one. The wetlanders would attack us on sight."

"Theres no hope for it I suppose, if you can't swim." Emi replied, "Which way's the bridge?"

"I think," Tanil said, looking around her and finally pointing upstream, "It's that way."

Emi packed up the Tim Tams and followed Tanil, at a more sedate pace this time. Tanil was obviously wary of her surroundings, so Emi attempted to pay more attention herself. Eventually the forest thinned and a grassy plain was displayed before them. Together they followed a path, looked to be well worn down by cars (or carts?) that ran alongside the river. Both were surprised, when they came over the top of a hill, to see a group of armed men riding horses. All wore armor such as a knight would wear. Tanil was just as quick as the men. The shouts of "Filthy Aiel" reached them even as Tanil finished winding her head scarf around her mouth and jaw. 

"Get behind the tree." she ordered Emi, pointing to a large tree next to the track.

Emi looked out from behind the tree as the men were about fifteen meters away and closing rapidly, swords drawn.

She could hardly watch as Tanil stabbed and dodged, spinning around like she was in some sort of well choreographed dance. Men fell off horses all around her. One armoured man broke off from the melee and began to ride towards Emi. Emi tried to keep the tree between them, but he swung his sword across his body. She heard a thunk as it embedded itself in the tree, but everything went black at the same time. She opened her eyes to find herself on the ground, something wet was in her eyes. She blinked, but it didn't clear. She heard the stamp of horses hooves and could see the blurry shape of the horse and man nearby. He seemed to be struggling to pull his sword from the tree.

Emi wiped her eyes with her sleeve and was shocked to see it come away crimson with her blood. She heard a fearful scream, "Nooooo!"  
She looked up to see Tanil running towards her but a man on horseback came between them briefly. Then, there was just Tanil. Kneeling on the ground, headless. She heard a thud from behind her. She swung around to see the man had jumped down off his horse, he was swinging something towards her. There was a sharp flash of light and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 1 - Emi wakes up in Randland

I hope you enjoyed the prelude. The rest of the story will be written in first person rather than the third person perspective of the prelude. Some events of my original story will stand, but most will change. Thank you to my previous reviewers, especially the one who gave me the creative criticism that led me to realise that I didn't want Emi to be some sort of all powerful anime martial artist mary-jane. *this* Emi will be much more human, I hope. Im not saying that she will remain a 'normal' human, I haven't decided her entire journey just yet... but it will be a long and arduous one. There is a lot of use of Australian colloquial expressions, as this is all written from Emis perspective, I hope they aren't distracting from the story. Please let me know what you think :)

-Chapter 1. Where Emi wakes up in wonder...uh Randland.-

I woke up slowly, with a pounding headache. My body ached and I was cold. Very very cold. My eyes took a few moments to focus in the darkness. The ceiling was unfamiliar. The walls were simply wooden planks, with gaps large enough to allow the freezing wind from outside to blow straight through. It was dark through the gaps, looking like it was night-time. But how long was I unconscious for? And where was I? Nothing seemed at all right about this situation.

Then it all came back to me. Tanil. Tanil's body. Tanil's body without a head.

I blinked away the tears that sprung up. It occurred to me that I was now stuck in a strange place, a strange alien place, without a single friend. Without the guide who brought me here. What was I even doing here? I don't even know why she brought me here.

A throbbing pain in the side of my head reminded me of how I came to be here. I brought my hand up to my head and felt the mother of all bumps. My hair felt crusty, and my fingers came away with dried flecks of rusty brown. Blood?

Why was I not in a hospital? Oh yeah, the guys dressed in armour. This place must be in some sort of dark ages.  
The bed I was on was very rough, it felt like the mattress was stuffed with sticks or something, a little bit of light flickered from a door to my left. Shadows danced on the ground underneath the door, the light must have been coming from an open fire, or a candle.

Sounds filtered in from the other side of the wall near my feet. The rhythmic clip clop of horses and people talking.

I opened my mouth to shout out for help, but my throat was so dry all I could manage was a strangled croak. It must have attracted some sort of attention though, because I could hear footsteps walking away from the door. I tried to roll over onto my side and that's when I realised that my feet were chained together and my right wrist was chained to the bed. Damn, they weren't taking any chances, were they?

The door opened and two men entered; one was massive, built like a brick shithouse. He had a vacant look on his large round face, looking like he was a few kangaroos short of a mob. The other man was his direct opposite; short like a jockey and wiry with a sharp ferretty face, he looked a bit more switched on, looking at me through squinty eyes. Both were wearing some sort of uniform, red coats with dirty white collars.

The big man was carrying a spear, which he promptly pointed directly at me. As weak and helpless as I felt, these two grown and armed men were looking at me like I was a tiger snake or something. Honestly, I was feeling lucky I wasn't dead; I was chained to a bed, and they thought I was capable of hurting them?

The little man pulled out a small sword, it was half the size that I expected a sword to be and I couldn't help the thought that someone had made a half length sword for a half length guy. It did look very sharp though and I didn't want to risk antagonising him by saying something about it.

For about a minute they just stood there, looking at me and I at them. I didn't make a move, not that I could, and they kept their weapons pointed at me like I was going to grow a second head.

"Don't think of doin' nothin'" the little one said to me, "there's more'n a hundred other guards in shoutin' distance."

I couldn't place his accent, English maybe?

I just shook my head at him slowly, wincing at the sudden burst of pain in my head.

"Are there any more of you out there?" He asked with obvious hostility.

I tried to tell him that I didn't know, but all I could manage was a choking noise before a series of hacking coughs wracked my body. Once they subsided, I looked at him through teary eyes and made a drinking motion with my left hand. He looked at me oddly until I pointed at my mouth.

"Water?" He asked, and I nodded.

"Keep your spear on 'er" he said to his towering companion before he left out the door, a thudding noise telling me that he'd put some sort of bar down to lock us in. I looked up at the giant man and he tensed, spear point wavering a few feet away from me.

The little man returned shortly and handed me a brown water bottle shaped thing. Some sort of leather canteen, stoppered with a cork. I swung my feet off the bed and sat up, right arm stretched behind me. I unplugged the cork one handed with no small amount of difficulty and held it up to my mouth. The water tasted a bit strange, but it washed away the dryness and certainly quenched my thirst. It also drew attention to another problem. The ache in my abdomen let me know that I really needed to use the toilet.

"Ummm… I really need to use your bathroom." I informed them.

They looked at me with incredulity, "Animals don't get baths." The big one said.

'Animals?'

"Not a bath." I said setting aside by desire to arc up, "I need a toilet."

"Toy-let?" the little one asked, "What is a toy-let?"

I looked at him like he was stupid. How do I make him understand?

"I need to piss." I deadpanned.

His eyebrows rose and his mouth opened in a silent "Ohhhhhh…."

He looked at my crotch. Perv. Then he pointed. I shifted my legs to the side. His hand lowered a bit more and I followed the invisible line to underneath the bed. Oh. Right. Under me was a wooden bucket. A bucket. My bladder was threatening to burst and they wanted me to piss in a fucking bucket?

Well, beggers can't be choosers I suppose. It was either piss in the bucket or mess myself.

I looked at the two of them with my best stare and I raised one eyebrow.

"Well?" I asked, "I'm not going to go with you two perverts here."

They stood up a bit straighter and looked at each other before stepping outside and closing the door.

Trying to pee in a bucket whilst wearing jeans and with your ankles tied together and one arm stretched out behind you was an interesting and slightly gross experience, but that sudden feeling of dread when you realise that you don't have anything to wipe with? Bugger.

Pulling up and buttoning up my jeans required a lot of maneuvering on the bed. Maybe I should have asked them to unchain me first?

Once I was finished and presentable (to an extent) I shouted out that I was done. Tweedle dumb and tweedle short came back in, still with weapons pointed at me. 'I should remember that one' I thought.

"Any more of you out there?" He asked again.

"I don't know." I replied, "I think it was just me and Tanil."

Just saying her name made tears well up again. God, my eyes must be puffy as all hell.

"What were you doing in the Mountains of Mist?" He asked.

"We weren't in any mountains" I replied, "We came out of the woods near the river."

The little guy looked at me like I was lying. I wondered if travellers from other worlds were an everyday occurrence around here? Best not to risk it, they might lock me up... moreso.

They must have run out of questions because they looked at each other and left the room, blocking the outside once more.

Again I was left with my thoughts, thinking of home and Tanil. Sunshine and Bob. I tried not to think of my mother and stepfather, but I couldn't help myself, I must have been the trauma or concussion.

Eventually the door opened and another guard entered, but only to throw a chunk of bread at me. It was some sort of dark wholemeal and very stale, but it was food and I didn't realise how hungry I was until after I'd finished it. It had an odd taste that wasn't entirely unpleasant. I wondered if they'd eaten all of my tim tams? Bastards probably have... What if they don't have chocolate here? Oh my God... how could I survive in this horrible place without chocolate?

'Calm down Emi.' I told myself, 'You don't know for sure that they don't have chocolate.'

"Way to get ahead of yourself Emi." I whispered to myself, "They are probably going to kill you anyway."

The weight of my own whispered words settled down on me. I was probably going to die here, cold, alone and so so far from home.

Fuck.

Depressing thoughts just ran around in circles through my head, tears burst through once more as I wondered what was going to become of me.

I eventually fell asleep and was woken up in the morning by another guard throwing bread at me. I washed it down with water from the water bottle thing and performed my morning ablutions in the bucket provided, ripping off part of the bed covering to clean with and discovering in the process that the mattress was stuffed with hay and grasses.

Tweedle dumb and tweedle short came in some time later, the hulk immediately pointing his spear at me.

"Stand up" the little one ordered, and I complied, "Remember, don't try anyfing funny."

I nodded, they probably wouldn't get any of my jokes anyway.

He came around beside me, hesitantly. Slowly, he reached down to the chain around my right wrist and did something to unlock it. I kicked myself that I didn't even think to inspect the method of my incarceration. The little man seemed to pounce backwards, away from me. It made me feel a little better to know that they were still scared shitless of me. He inched forwards again and unwound the chains from my ankles. I stretched out a bit and was rewarded simultaneously with the little man again pouncing back like a kitten on speed and the big man jabbing his spear towards me. I raised my hands in the (hopefully) universal gesture of "I give up".

The two guards marched me out of the room and down a corridor into another room. This one was much nicer than my cell. A tapestry covered one wall and a fireplace occupied another. A roaring fire provided some light and a substantial warmth that did much to remedy the deep chill that seemed to inhabit my very core. There was a table in the middle of the room, a large wooden chest sat on the ground next to it. Behind the table stood a man. He appeared to be in his forties or fifties, with graying hair; his uniform was cleaner and smarter than the guard's, with a piece of cord tied and knotted around his shoulder. The white collar was crisp and ironed, the red was unblemished. A sword rested at his hip, it's scabbard was leather with swirling patterns carved into it, a dagger in the belt behind it. One of his hands rested on the hilt of the sword, the other was rested on the table in front of him. The guards pushed me in front of the table and saluted the important looking man, who saluted in turn. The guards then marched out the door, closing it behind them.

"I am Guards Captain Alek Illain." He informed me, then enquired "Who are you?"

"I'm Emi Wilson" I answered promptly. He had that tone of voice that told you that he expected answers quickly and without nonsense.

"What are Aiel doing in Andor?" he asked me.

"I'm not an Aiel, I'm Australian." I argued.

"Australian? You look like a black eyed Aiel." He said, then asked, "Where is Australia?"

'Black eyed? My eyes are blue.' I thought. 'Maybe it's a cultural thing?'

How could I tell him where Australia was when I didn't even know where I was? They mustn't have an accurate knowledge of their own Geography if he was asking me.

"It's far away, an Island nation." I answered, taking a gamble.

He appeared to think about this for a few moments, but seemed to accept it.

"Why did you attack the Queen's Guardsmen?" He questioned.

"I didn't attack anyone!" I argued.

"You killed Ban, his wife no longer has a husband and his children no longer have a father. You killed Alain, he'd only just joined the Queens Guard. You killed Graig, since his wife passed his children now have nobody." He accused.

With each name a new wave of guilt washed down over me, before my anger burnt it away. The feeling of guilt evaporated. They had attacked us! They killed Tanil! Why should I feel guilty about these people who attacked ME?

"I didn't kill anyone, I couldn't kill anyone!" I shouted at him, "Your men are the murderers! They killed Tanil! They just rode up and attacked us! She did nothing wrong!"

My voice broke near the end and so did I. It was too much. I collapsed down onto the ground in a heap and just sobbed. Eventually the tears subsided and I got a hold of myself, cleaning the tears from my eyes with the back of my sleeve.

He didn't say anything for a long while, just stood there and looked at me. I heaved myself back to my feet, my legs prickling from pins and needles.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"Sixteen." I answered and watched as his eyebrows shot up.

He looked at me speculatively before he lifted up a wooden chest onto the table and pulled out some clothing. I immediately recognised as my spare clothing from my bag. He put the clothes to one side in a pile. Poking out from the clothes was the wooden amulet Tanil had pulled from the doorway. He pulled out my ipod and put it on the table.

"What is this?"

"Its an ipod." I answered, then added in response to his blank expression "It plays music"

He quirked an eyebrow at me and looked down at the device but didn't say anything as he put the ipod to one side. He pulled out a cardboard patterned box and my cheeks immediately went red, is he going to ask?

"What are these?".

Damn. I didn't say anything for a moment and he shook the box.

"Tampons" I answered, after summoning up the courage to get over my mortification.

"What are tam-pons?"

Oh shit. "Uh..." I stuttered and pointed, "Fe...Feminine hygiene?"

His cheeks went red. 'Thank Christ I don't have to give him 'the talk'.' I thought. At least now he appeared as embarrassed as I felt.

He put the brightly coloured box next to my clothes.

Next he pulled out packets of Tim Tams, noodles and saladas, placing them on the table. He didn't ask anything, so I wondered if that meant that he knew that they were food? 'Wait a sec!' I thought, 'The opened packet is missing!'

Those bastards did eat my Tim Tams!

My phone was next, but rather than try to think of a way to explain it I just held out my hand. He looked at me, then at it. Was he weighing up the possibility that it was some kind of weapon? Apprehension must have won out, as he put my phone down with the pile.

One by one he pulled out every item that was in my bag, asking what it was, or in the case of my camping cutlery set, how it was made. How do I explain how cutlery is made if I don't even know myself?

The zip on my backpack seemed to fascinate him, I watched awkwardly as he zipped and unzipped. He seemed disappointed that I couldn't explain how it worked. Lastly he picked up a familiar piece of A4 lined paper. My english assignment.

"If a Whitecloak saw this you'd be hung, or put to the question and then hung." He said, putting the piece of paper into the chest.

That didn't make sense to me, "Why would someone want to hang me for something that doesn't make sense?"

"Why doesn't it make sense?" He asked me.

He picked up the piece of paper and read, "The Dragon shall be reborn to oppose the Shadow."

He looked up at me and said "Those sound like the sort of words one would speak when trying to raise themselves up as a false dragon."

I looked at him blankly.

A thought seemed to occur to him and he asked, "Is this to do with that Ghealdan lord who has proclaimed himself the Dragon Reborn?"

"I don't even know what you're talking about." I answered honestly.

"By the light!" He exclaimed, "You really don't, do you? Surely, even the Aiel know of the Dragon?"

"I wouldn't know" I reiterated, "I'm not Aiel."

He nodded to himself, then unceremoniously dumped all of my belongings back into the chest and stood staring at me. Just as his gaze became extremely uncomfortable he broke it and cleared his throat.

"Well then." He said finally, "I will send you in the next caravan to Caemlyn, the Queen will know what to do with you."

"Herrod!" He called out and the guards came back into the room, "Escort her back to her cell, you will be accompanying her on the caravan tomorrow."

"Aye, sir" spoke the jockey. Allowing me to put a name to his ferret like face.

I was soon escorted back to my very sparse accommodation, where Herrod didn't put my chains back on. The rest of the day was spent in contemplation of my situation, sleep found me quickly once night fell. That night I dreamed of home, of school and of Sunshine. I woke up with the smell of Sunshines freshly baked bread. Upon awakening I realised that it was not a dream, a whole half a loaf of freshly baked bread was sitting on the ground right under my nose. Steam wafted up from the break in the loaf, from where the warmth of the baked bread clashed with the frigid temperature of the room. I wolfed down the bread, never more glad for something so simple as fresh bread. Herrod ferret face came in a short time later accompanied by his gigantic friend. Gigantor pointed his spear at me, aside from calling me an animal it's all I'd seen him do, while his short arsed friend clamped some giant hand cuffs around my wrists. Surely by now I've proven that the only danger I could pose to them would be drowning them in my tears? They were really heavy, weighing my hands down in front of me. Herrod led me outside, and I had to blink at the brightness of the sun. We were in a city, but like no city I'd ever seen. Houses and shops were made of either stone or wood, the streets were paved with stone. People walked around in a familiar manner, but often had to move out of the way of others on horseback. Most people seemed to be dressed in fairly simple fashion, plain long sleeved dresses in darker shades on women with men wearing simple trousers and linen shirts. The smell was the next thing to hit me; an interesting combination of horse manure, woodsmoke, stale urine and sewerage. Almost everyone appeared to be dirty, with smudges of soot or dirt across their faces and arms. Despite the odd plume of black or white smoke trailing up into the sky from various points around me, the sky itself seemed amazingly clear. In front of us stood a series of wooden carts each harnessed to teams of gigantic draught horses. Some of the carts were filled and covered with canvas tarps, the one directly in front of my just had bench seats along the length of each side that were mostly taken up by bags, swags and chests. Men sat at the front of each cart holding the reins and some men armed with spears and shields and dressed in armor sat on horses spread out around the convoy. Captain Alek came out from the building and directed Herrod to help me up into the cart. Herrod complied by getting onto one knee and cupping his hands for me to step in. Once up onto the cart I twisted around to see a young curly haired woman staring at me from behind Captain Alek, I watched her eyes lift up towards my face and her mouth opened a little.

'Waitasec. Was she checking out my arse?' I thought.

The pretty dark haired woman was certainly unabashed with her staring. She was dressed in a short sleeved dress like all of the other women and carrying a basket full of herbs. Maybe it was light headedness from being suddenly outside or the little jolt of confidence from being so obviously checked out? Whatever it was, something prompted me to wink at the girl and say "Like what you see?" This was accompanied by a slap of my manacled hand on my left butt cheek.

Her jaw dropped and she flushed a bright red before running off. I chuckled a little at her embarrassment, but suffered a dose of it myself when I realised Captain Alek didn't know she was there and thought I was directing that at him! Oh well, hopefully I will never have to come back to this...

"What's the name of this place?" I asked Herrod as I sat down.

"Baerlon" he replied in a surly manner before climbing up to join me in the cart.

"Be careful." Captain Alek told Herrod, "I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the reports of things in the darkness from the patrols and make sure she reaches the Queen alive and unharmed."

"Don't show that sort of cheekiness at court and don't think of lying to the Queen, Elaida Sedai can sniff out dishonesty." He said to me, chuckling at my embarrassment before saying "Farewell" to us all.

"Move out" called one of the guards on horseback and soon the column of carts snaked it's way through the city, shortly reaching a large wooden gate guarding a high wall made of logs that stretched out to either side. I sat in silence for the entire trip, taking in the sights of the city to start off with, then the sights of the countryside as our journey progressed. The countryside was beautiful, reminding me of home, with fields of wheat, sheep or cattle; interspersed with the odd farmhouse or barn. As the sun got high in the sky, the men around me pulled out different types of food wrapped in cloth. My lunch consisted of the end piece of bread that ferret face chucked at my feet with disgust.

'Well this is going to be a fun trip.' I thought.

The rest of the day went slowly, occasionally we passed other travellers, mostly we just travelled in silence. Eventually, just as the sun was going down, we arrived at an open bit of grassland. The wagons pulled off onto the grass in a row and everyone began their preparations for making camp. A fire was soon roaring and the men were cooking food over it. I stayed in the cart the whole time, Herrod stayed watching me until he jumped down himself. He held out a hand to me and I reached out to take it, but instead of taking my hand he grabbed hold of the manacles and pulled me down off the cart. It wasn't much of a drop, but the shock of his action left me unprepared and I landed awkwardly.

I jumped up on my feet, furious at his treatment of me. "You fucking arse, just because you're low to the ground doesn't mean everyone else is!" I yelled at him.

Everyone around the camp stopped what they were doing to watch us.

"Shut yer mouth girl, I might not be a blademaster, but I know enough to stop yer yammerin'" he threatened, waving his short sword at me.

I don't know what possessed me; sometimes I have trouble knowing when to shut up and it seemed like this was one of those times.

"You know, girls often tell a guy that its not the size of his... sword that matters, but how he uses it.." I said to ferret-face, "But you know what? They're lying to stop him from feeling bad."

The rest of the men around the fire cacked themselves laughing and Herrod stormed away into the darkness in a fury.

"He's still angry about what happened at the bridge." One of the guards said to me after he had finished laughing, "Ban was his friend. The Captain told us what happened and we don't blame you, but he's angry."

"So I should cut ferret face some slack?" I retorted, still angry at him.

The man tried to contain another bout of laughter in an awkward type of cough and responded "If by 'cut him some slack' you mean to not antagonise him? Yes."

They fed me a little bit of stew and tied me up to the cart wheel and I quickly fell asleep with the warmth of the fire on one side.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a shadow standing above me. I held my breath and tensed up, not knowing what to expect, fear permeated me. I had never felt as helpless as I did at that moment. I watched through half closed eyes as the figure drew a small sword and flicked his finger against it. The metal was a short ringing noise. Someone coughed from the other side of the fire and the figure startled, moving quickly away.

I didn't fall asleep the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 2 - On the Road to Caemlyn

Authors notes: i'm moving house, so my WOT d20 sourcebook is packed, as are all of my hard copy novels. I'm relying upon WOT wiki and other online sources. If you find a glaring mistake let me know. I have taken some liberty with the duties of the Queens guard that I hope aren't too out of the realms of believability. Thanks to my reviewer, I'd love to see some more ;)

Note: PTSD is a horrible thing, every day so many returned service men and women (not limited to just them though) take their own lives because of the things they have seen and done. The problems of how to deal with shock and mental trauma are many and very serious.

-Chapter 2. On the road to Caemlyn-

The next day passed without incident. I looked out at rolling hills on our right, and farmsteads dotted both sides of the track. The farther we went, the smaller the mountains behind us became, getting fuzzy in their haze. Around midday the farms on our left gave way to forest, great old trees towering up into the sky. The lush growth of the forest meant more animals as well. I spotted a grey rabbit before the thunk of an arrow impaling into the ground next to it encouraged it to rapidly escape. One of the guards cursed his poor luck that the sun had chosen just that moment to shine into his eyes. I chuckled a little to myself that even though i was in a completely foreign place, at least men blaming anything but themselves didn't change. Lunch, on the road was bread and cheese but the guards kept a watchful eye out for more animals and did actually manage to skewer a few of the poor little buggers. Herrod stayed away from me, choosing to ride a spare horse rather than sit in the cart. The rest of the men, while they didn't exactly include me in their conversations, didn't exclude me either. They told jokes to pass the time or told each other stories. I couldn't think of one that I could tell, that they would get, and I didn't want to push my luck. In any case I was happy enough listening to their stories and jokes. It was such a pleasant way to spend some time that I almost forgot that I was their captive, being escorted to an interrogation.

Just as we came to the end of the forest, we made camp for the night. The man who spoke to me the previous day was the one to help me down from the cart. The task of skinning the dead bunnies was awarded to a guard who appeared to be the youngest of the bunch. He argued very loudly against that plan, that there was a woman amongst them, so why should he have to do 'women's' work?

"By the light!" Herrod exclaimed, spitting on the ground in my direction, "Give a knife to that thrice cursed Aiel? You'd be dead in a heartbeat!"

Before I even had a chance to say something (and with the way my anger was boiling up, I could have come out with anything), the young guard was shouted down by the rest of them telling him to get on with the job. I swallowed my anger and chose to shoot dark looks Herrod's way instead.

Eventually a delicious, thick, rabbit stew was served and I slurped it out of a small wooden bowl eagerly. It filled and warmed me, with a full belly, a warm fire and the lack of sleep the previous night I was soon fast asleep.

I don't know how much later it was, but I awoke to a repetitive rasping sound. I opened my eyes to see Herrod cross legged a few meters away with his sword across his lap. He was running some sort of stone across the edge. The *schick* *schick* *schick* sent shivers down my spine and my breath hitched when I became aware that he wasn't paying any attention to what he was doing, he was instead staring straight at me. Needless to say, I got little sleep that night either.

Soon enough the morning sun lit up the sky and the camp was on its way again. Ferret face spent most of the morning staring at me from his horse. I spent most of the morning staring back at him. Eventually the guard that spoke to me on the first day noticed and took Herrod back behind the tail of the procession. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but the argument must have been a doozy if the hand waving and pointing was any indication. Eventually they both rode up past me towards the front of the caravan and I didn't see Herrod for the rest of the day. I was yawning every couple of minutes as the sun got higher I got warmer and more tired. I soon fell asleep. My sleep was far from uninterrupted though, every pothole in the track caused the cart to bounce up and me to wake. I think I ended up feeling more tired than I started. Mister friendly came back a little after I was jolted awake for the last time and rode along beside my cart for a little while. I waited patiently for him to say something. It was an uncomfort minute or two before he cleared his throat.

"He's going to stop." He said simply.

"Well that's a relief." I replied.

"He wouldn't do anything to you." He added, "The captain told him to make sure you arrived unharmed before we left. He's not about to disobey an order like that."

I did feel relief then. When I had overheard the captain say that back in Baerlon I thought he meant to protect me from harm from outside our group, not to protect me from himself. This realisation gave me a great deal of peace of mind.

"Thanks." I said.

"Ayin" he offered.

"Emi." I returned, holding out my manacled had to shake.

Without Herrod to stare at, the rest of the day went fairly quickly. I was once again able to pay attention to the banter of the men and spend time appreciating the views. Ayin rode back again after lunch, once more spending a few moments in silence before speaking. I took that time to subtly observe him out of the corner of my eye. He was a fairly handsome man in his thirties. His armour was covered by the red and white of the guards. He wore his sword with the casual ease of a policeman wearing a gun. (I don't know how they do that, I'd be constantly worried that it would go off and shoot me in my foot). He may have been clean shaven when we left Baerlon, but a dark fuzz was now covering his face. His dark brown hair was wavy and shoulder length.

"Do all Aiel women dress like men?" He asked abruptly, turning his head to look at me.

"I wouldn't know." I replied, "I'm not Aiel."

"That's right." He nodded to himself, obviously not believing me.

"Why does everyone think I'm an Aiel anyway?" I asked, "I know Tanil was, but just because she was doesn't mean I am."

"Your hair." He answered, "And your eyes. Both are pale and light coloured. I was too young to remember much of the Aiel war, but men older than me may have fought with the great coalition against them. There are a great number of songs written about that time. A Cairhienin would take one look at you and run for the hills."

'So I'm going to be a target of racism because of my hair colour?' I thought as I inspected a lock of my blond hair.

It reminded me of a video they made us watch in personal development. Brown eyes, blue eyes? Well bugger. I doubt they'd have hair dye if that was the situation.

"So..." I said, "If you're a Queens guardsman, why aren't you guarding a Queen?"

"Baerlon and Caemlyn have their own watch." He nodded towards one of the other armed men who wasn't wearing a red and white coat. "Braen there is part of the Baerlon watch. He will be accompanying us as far as Whitebridge before he heads back. The Queens Guard, as well as protecting the person of Queen Morgase are entrusted with keeping her peace across all of Andor. There are a few of us stationed in Baerlon under captain Alec and we rotate escorting the caravans and protect the Queen's road at the same time."

Someone from the front of the group called out to Ayin and he had to ride forward, leaving me once again alone. The forests returned (on both sides of the track) and the farms stopped. Wilderness surrounded us as we made our way slowly to the East.

That night, I fell asleep very quickly, exhaustion helping overcome the paranoia from the two previous nights. It was again late when I woke up. A breeze had picked up and the smoke from the fire was blowing straight onto me. I coughed a couple of times and squinted through the smoky haze at a dark figure between myself and the fire. His cloak hung limply around him and his sword stood naked between us, a dark sliver. The blade seemed to suck in the light from around it, reflecting nothing. The cold breeze chilled me deeply, goosebumps prickling my skin. An ominous feeling crept over me as I lay there staring at the unmoving figure in front of me.

Anger boiled up, I wasn't going to go through yet another sleepless night. The knowledge that he couldn't do anything to me gave me a bit of bravado.

"Fuck off Herrod." I snarled loudly.

"Wha?" I heard exclaimed from off to my right.

I looked over at the noise to see Herrod look up at me, half his face lit by firelight and half in shadow. Any semblance of sleep drained from me rapidly as I looked back towards the figure. The figure that was no longer there. I had not heard a single noise of him moving away.

"Wha you call me for?" Herrod slurred.

"I thought it was you. I must've been dreaming." I replied, "Go back to sleep"

'Just a dream' I reassured myself.

Ferret face grumbled for a minute but soon went back to sleep. Me? I was up all night for a third night in a row.

The next day I managed to get some sleep in the cart. I was ultimately awoken by a nightmare featuring a black cloaked figure that left me with a chill and goosebumps despite the morning sun's warmth.

Around lunchtime we came across some other travellers. Our procession came to a halt and I could see up ahead a cart was on its side, people standing around it. I saw Ayin ride up ahead and begin talking to the other men. Suddenly I heard Ayin shout out something and all of our guards drew their weapons. I heard the clash of metal striking metal as all of the men joined into the melee. I tried to plan what to do if the others won. Despite being kept chained up, my captors had treated me relatively okay. If these others were bandits, I kept myself under no illusion of what sort of horrors could befall me. I resolved to run into the forest if the guardsmen were defeated.

I watched the battle ahead, the guardsmen appeared to be winning, until suddenly I heard a twig snap nearby. My head shot around and I saw a scruffy looking man approaching my cart with a dagger in his hand. He looked almost comical as he froze and looked at his feet for a moment, before he looked back up and started running towards me.

I let out a shriek as I picked up the nearest thing at hand, which happened to be a cast iron skillet. I threw it two handed at the bandit but didn't stop to watch as I jumped over the other side of the cart. I landed awkwardly but got myself up quickly and started running into the woods. I was only a couple of meters in, having jumped over a fallen log, before I came to a skidding halt. There in front of me, in the shadow of a tree, stood a figure in a black cloak. The figure from my nightmare. Whilst holding his blacker than black sword in one hand he reached up to pull back the hood of his cloak. It's cloak I should say, for while it appeared to be male, I wasn't entirely sure it was human. It had a thin face, white waxy looking skin and thin pale lips. Thick black hair topped it's head and where it's eyes should have been, there was nothing, just blank skin. Two slight indentations where there should be eyes. I looked upon this creature's face and all I could do was let out a scream before I turned and bolted back the way I came. In my haste, I had forgotten the log. A flash of blinding pain seared me legs as my momentum carried me over. I landed face first in dirt on the other side. The nightmare thing behind me gave me clarity however and probably more than a little adrenaline. I pushed myself to my feet and, ignoring the pain in my legs, started sprinting back towards the cart. I didn't dare look behind me, but did notice ahead the unmoving body of a man with a cast iron skillet next to him. I jumped over the body and a moment of hesitation struck me. What if there were more of those *things* in the forest on the other side? My only other option lay towards the fighting. Quickly, that was the choice I made. I ran towards the front of the caravan and as I got closer, I felt safer. Ayin was pulling his blood coated sword from the chest of the last bandit and the others were searching the bodies of the downed bandits. I ran straight for Ayin and grabbed hold of him. I twisted him around to face the forest while simultaneously hiding myself behind him.

"Help." I panted, "Monster in the forest."

"Calm yourself." He said gently, "They are all dead, they won't harm you."

"Not the men!" I blathered, "The monster, the man with no eyes!"

At that, everybody froze. Almost as one they faced the forest in the direction I was pointing Ayin. They moved back towards us, flanking either side while not taking their eyes off the woods.

"How far in was it?" Ayin asked me, quietly.

"Only a few meters." I answered.

Whether he knew what a meter was, or he just understood the general idea, he didn't give any indication. Slowly he moved forward getting closer and closer to the forests edge. The men around me tensed up as he reached the first of the trees.

"Fades is just a story." Muttered one of the younger guardsmen, but i noticed that he didn't lower his weapon, nor relax his stance.

Ayin disappeared from view as he walked into the forest, the tension became unbearable. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a minute, Ayin appeared once more.

"Nothing there" he said and the men around me relaxed and started laughing.

A few gave me strange looks.

One said something like "Been listening to too many Gleeman's stories."

They sheathed their weapons and went back to checking bodies and moving the broken cart. Two of our own wagoneers were dead, their bodies lifted up onto the supposedly broken cart. Guards took their positions on the carts. The bodies of the bandits were pushed to the side of the track. I went back to my own cart only once we were ready to go and I didn't take my eyes off the forest until one of the guards made a noise and handed me something. I took it before I realised that it was the skillet. I dropped it into the cart and found that my hands were sticky from it. Looking down I saw that they were covered with blood. All thoughts fled my mind as I stared in shock at my hands. Panicked I looked around and spotted the body of the scruffy looking man rolled to the side of the track. I killed someone. I killed him. His blank eyes were staring towards me blood covered his face from a large gash in his forehead. What did I do? The thoughts came rushing back, swirling around, a maelstrom of horror and guilt. I collapsed in on myself and sobbed into my hands. I felt no guilt about the men back at the river, I didn't kill them. This man? This man I did kill. He was someone's son. May have been someone's husband or father. I took his life. I looked back for the man and he was gone, and we were moving. I don't know how long we had been going for while I was sitting there, but I couldn't see any sign of the battlefield. Ayin rode up and held out something towards me, I flinched back before noticing that it was a piece of wet cloth. I allowed him to rub it against my face and watched numb as the white cloth was dyed red with blood. 'I must have looked a bit of a sight' I thought as I looked at my hands. More horror thoughts ran through my head as I became aware that I had inadvertently used the man's blood as a facial when crying into my hands. Yuck.

"That was your first?" Ayin asked.

I nodded.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, indicating my face, "I didn't know if that was some kind of Aiel first kill ritual, but you were scaring the men."

I was too confused by his words to bother correcting him.

"Different people do it differently." He added handing me the cloth so that I could clean my hands. As I cleaned he continued, "About the fade, the men think that you were just playing a joke on them. Most men believe that they are nothing but legends, things parents tell their children to scare them into behaving."

"But you believe me? Why?" I asked.

"In my youth I worked as a merchants guard. Once I escorted a merchant caravan up to Shienar in the Borderlands. I've seen Trollocs and I've heard all about fades, although they are called Myrddraal up there." He explained. "If there was a fade back there, then that means that those men weren't just Bandits, but Darkfriends."

Trollocs? Myrddraal? Darkfriends? So many questions.

"What are darkfriends?" I asked, settling on my most immediate question.

"Men... Or women, who have sworn their allegiance to." He paused, "The Shadow. For whatever reason, they have sworn away from the light."

"Sold their souls to the devil?" I asked, wondering if I was on the right track.

"If Devil is the Aiel name for the Lord of the Dark, then yes."

"How many times do I have to tell you people that I'm not an Aiel?" I whined.

He smiled at me, but didn't say anything.

"And what are Trollocs?" I asked.

"Beasts, the size of large men with the head of an animal." He answered, painting a fairly ugly picture, "They are amazingly strong, but not very smart, they live to kill."

I shuddered at the image. Well, between them and they eyeless guys, I'm not going to get any sleep for the next year at least.

"The thing is, there is only one thing different between this and any other caravan. What is so special about you, that the Dark One wants?" Ayin asked me.

Me? Satan wants me? Do I tell him about Earth? Do I tell him about my English assignment come prophecy? Do I tell him about what Tanil said when she came to get me? Something told me to keep quiet, so I just shrugged and shook my head.

He must have known I was keeping all of that to myself, my poker face is horrible, but he didn't say anything; he merely shrugged. He rode back off towards the front of the line and I was left to my own thoughts. It kind of made me feel better to know that the man was some sort of crazy Satan worshipper. A little, not completely better. I don't know why. I knew that if I didn't get past it, to accept the reality of the world I was now in, that I could easily end up like Lady MacBeth scrubbing away at a nonexistent spot of blood. In about a week now I had seen more death than I ever expected to in my entire life. Do I just try to ignore it now and suffer the consequences later? I didn't know what to do. I doubt there would be any therapists I could talk to. I resolved to just accept my situation, to rationalise it any way I had to, to survive. In any case, i had other problems. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and I seemed to be out of shock, I became acutely aware of the dull ache in both of my legs. I couldn't pull up the legs of my jeans far enough to see, but if the sharp pain I got when I touched against the front of my legs was any indication, I had done some nasty damage to them. I gritted my teeth and pushed a bit harder. My God it hurt! I don't know what broken bones would feel like, but nothing moved that shouldn't. Hopefully I hadn't done any lasting damage. I told Ayin about the pain and was able to convince him to give me a pair of tracksuit pants from the chest of my belongings. He lifted me down from the cart and gave me some privacy to change. Once I was able to get my jeans off, I could see the purple/black bruised mess that was my legs. Ouch. I limped back to Ayin and lifted a leg to show him. He winced in sympathy and one of the older men brought me a cup of hot tea.

"Willowbark tea." He explained, "I take it fer me winter aches."

I sipped at the bitter brew and wished that I had some sugar. I waited until it had cooled a bit and drank it down quickly. It was no panadol rapid, but the pain did seem to ease after a little while. When it was time for dinner, I ate some stew (apparently the only thing these guys knew how to cook) and listened to the campfire stories. A canteen thingy was being passed around and upon taking a swig found it to contain wine. It tasted a lot better than Sunshine's dandelion wine and i had a taste everytime it came back to me. The stories seemed to consist of anecdotes about Beren and Draim, the two wagoneers who were killed. I laughed along with everyone else at a story about how Beren had chased a runaway horse into a house in Whitebridge, accidentally disturbing a woman who was bathing. According to the story, he had such trouble that the old lady had to get out of the bath and get the horse out herself. The stories (and maybe the wine) helped me keep my mind away from my own troubles.

That night, despite my determination to never ever sleep again, I did fall into a nightmare plagued slumber. I dreamed of the scruffy man, my murder victim; the eyeless "fade" and of some shadowy personification of evil that was chasing me relentlessly.

I was woken late in the morning by the old man with another cup of willowbark tea. I hoped that it would help relieve the pounding in my head as well as the ache in my legs.


End file.
